


Roi de La Fayette

by orphan_account



Category: American Revolution RPF, Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alexander Hamilton is George Washington's Biological Son, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, American Revolution, BAMF Elizabeth, Boys Kissing, Canon Era, Everyone Is Gay, Everyone Needs A Hug, French Characters, French Kissing, Jealousy, Kissing, M/M, Marriage, Master/Pet, Master/Servant, Master/Slave, Minor Alexander Hamilton/Elizabeth "Eliza" Schuyler, Minor Alexander Hamilton/John Laurens, Polyamory
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-13
Updated: 2019-01-13
Packaged: 2019-10-09 16:38:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17410451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Marie-Joseph Paul Yves Roch Gilbert du Motier de La Fayette, Roi de La Fayette.When King Marie-Joseph takes a four year vacation to America to talk to Philip Schuyler and President George Washington, he meets an Irish house servent owned by President Washington. They talk and get to know each other,  and eventually start developing feelings.When Lafayette receives a letter from one of his loyal friends that his wife has tried to raise the taxes in lower income neighborhoods, he realizes that he must go back.What will happen to his relationship with Hercules when he leaves?Will President Washington, his oldest friend, agree to letting them be together? Will society?





	1. 1

August 11, 1780: A French Palace Throne Room, France.

“All hail the King,” My subjects shout as I sit down in my velvet-drawn throne, “Vive le roi!”

“Alright, alright, settle down,” I shout over their chants, they all sit down snickering slightly, I smile.

“Maintenant, comme vous le savez tous, je vais visiter le participe nouvellement libéré de l'Angleterre, l'Amérique. Mais, ma charmante épouse, Adrienne, gouvernera dans les quatre ans où je serai émigré,” I cringe as I say ‘charmante.’ (Now, as you all know, I am going to visit the newly released participle of England, America. But, my lovely wife, Adrienne, will govern in the four years I am emigrated.)

Someone in the crowd shouted, “Pourquoi dans le monde devriez-vous visiter les gens qui ont rompu la promesse faite au roi Louis?” Everyone begins to clamor, shouting at each other, shouting just to shout, covering their ears, etc. (Why in the world should you visit the people who broke the promise made to King Louis.)

“Silence!” I shout, everyone sits down and silently waits for my next action, “Vous ne pouvez pas être le plus heureux de mon choix, mais je suis votre roi et vous n'avez pas le droit de m'interroger. Maintenant, revenez à vos messages, la prochaine fois que vous me verrez sera le 21 septembre 1784.” (You can not be the happiest of my choice, but I am your king and you have no right to question me. Now, return to your messages, the next time you see me will be September 21, 1784.)

I stand up, taking my wife’s hand and walking her to the office.

“Are you sure you want to do this, mon amour?” Adrienne asks as we sit in the matching his-and-hers chairs.

“Oui, my darling. I am 100% sure I want to go to l’Amérique.”

“Alright, Gibert, but remember, no matter how hard you may try, you’ll always be an imbécile,” She says smiling, I force a smirk, trying not to show her the pain she has put me through.

“Of course, mon cheri.”


	2. 2

August 31th, 1780: New York Harbor, America.

I arrive by boat to the New York harbor, dressed in apparel suited for an average person of the time, a blue tailcoat and a white collared shirt, a pair of blue pants dawning my legs. As I step off the French ship of which I own, I am immediately bombarded by the rushing crowds, I continue to walk, attracting attention from a few groups of ladies, three of which dressed in gowns fit for the highest of class. One of which was tall, wearing a pink dress, magnifique. The other two shorter than the first one, wearing blue and green dresses. The one in the rose dress approaches, the other two following close behind.

“Excuse me, sir?” Madame Rose says to me

“Oui?” I respond

“Would you happen to be King Marie-Joseph of France?” She asks me, a sceptique look in her eye.

“Why, what would make you think that?”

“Our father has met King Marie before and told us that he would be coming, we have seen oil paintings of him in our home, you fit all of these categories.”

“Who is your father?”

“Philip Schuyler!” The green one said.

“Ah, yes. Monsieur Schuyler. And, if I may ask, what are your names, Madames?”

Madame Rosa immediately responds, “Angelica Schuyler, these two are Elizabeth and Margarita. You can probably guess who is who. Now, shall we take you back to the Schuyler Penance?”

“Oui.”

“Do you know where it is, sir?” Elizabeth jumps in.

“In fact, I do not.”

Elizabeth speaks once again, “We have some business to attend to, Angelica and I. Peggy shall show you to the home,” She curtsies and grabs Angelica’s arm, walking off angrily.

“Do you speak Francais, Madame?” I ask the youngest of the three, Margarita.

“Oui, Roi de La Fayette. Je m’appelle Peggy. Puis-je vous montrez à la maison?” (Yes, King Lafayette. My name is Peggy. Would you like me to show you to my home?)

“Oui, Peggy. Tu peux m'appeler Gilbert, au fait." (Yes, Peggy. You can call me Gilbert, by the way.)

“Monsieur, je ne me sens pas à l'aise de vous parler de cette manière, si je peux parler si librement.” (Sir, I do not feel comfortable talking to you that way, if I can speak so freely.)

“Ah, mais il me fait plaisir de m'adresser à moi en tant que telle, Mlle Schuyler.” (Ah, but it is my pleasure to address myself as such, Miss Schuyler.)

“Alright, we are here,” Peggy says walking up to a gate guarded by 3 well-dressed guards.

“I did not realize we had taken so short of a time to arrive.”

“Hello, Miss Margarita. Who is this man with you?”

“This is Marie-Joseph Paul Yves Roch Gilbert du Motier de La Fayette, Roi de La Fayette.”

The guards bow, saying in unison, “Pleasure, Sire.”

One of them opens the gate, motioning for us to go through. As we walk up the short path leading to the entrance, I get a little nervous, “It has been neuf years since I have seen him,” I tell Peggy.

“He hasn’t changed one bit, Gilbert, I assure you of that,” She says through a snarl.

We walk through the front door, walking towards Philip’s study.

“Father, the King as arrived,” Peggy says, walking to another room, I assume to be her bedroom.

“Hello, Gilbert, it’s been so long. Nine years, I believe.”

“Ah, yes. Long time.”

“There seems to be something on your mind, sir.”

“Nothing, in particular, Philip. Say, why have you brought me here? Your letters were vague, but I trust you so I came despite it.”

“Ah, you had said in some of your previous letters that you do not love your wife, correct?”

“Yes, that is what I have said.”

“Well, is it true?”

“Yes, I believe so.”

“You’re the king of a country! Why be with someone who you do not love? Any woman would be more than happy to marry you, and lucky if they do.”

“What if I don’t want to marry a woman?”

“How do you mean?”

“Well, if I do have Adrienne killed, I do not have to remarry.”

“That is true, but don’t you want to have children to pass the throne down to?”

“I can adopt an orphan with a troubled past. That would be the most obvious solution, or I could marry someone other than a woman.”

“Ohh, so you mean more than one woman, I see how it is, you sly fox.”

“No, that is not what I meant at all. Say, Phillip, do you speak French?”

“Not a word.”

“Tu vois, je ne veux pas épouser une femme, J'aimerais me marier un homme.” (You see, I do not want to marry a woman, I'd like to marry a man)

“Gilbert, I just said I didn’t speak French.”

“Precisely. This way I can say that I told you, but you didn’t understand a single word. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some other business to attend to.”

“May I ask what?”

“Meeting with the leader of this country of yours.”


	3. 3

September 1, 1780: George Washington’s home, New York, America.

I wake up to find myself in a bed, not my own bed. It is a room with the bed I lay upon, a window, and a desk with a candle on it.

I check my pocket-watch, 8:56 am.

I look at the desk to find a fresh outfit laid out, perfectly fitted for my own body. Last night, I had arrived at George Washington's home sometime around 6:00 at night. We spoke for hours before heading to bed. I shall be staying here for the next four years.

A knock comes to the door then a creak of its opening, “May I come in, Guest of President Washington?” A servant asks.

“Of course.”

“Sir, we have prepared a lovely breakfast for you that is waiting downstairs, President Washington has gone out for a while but shall be back soon, I bet,” The servant goes wide-eyed as soon as he sees me and blushes rather hard. I look down, I am not wearing a shirt.

“Of course, what happens to be your name?”

“H-Hercules Mulligan, mister…?”

“Gilbert. Call me Gilbert. Hercules, may you step out of the room for just one minute while I get dressed?”

“Y-Yes, sir. Um, shall I wait outside of the door?”

“That would be preferred. But, no formalities, please. My name is Gilbert and that is how you will address me.”

“Okay,” Hercules says, walking out of the room and closing the door.

“Sacre Bleu,” I whisper.

\---------

I knock on the guests’ room door and open it, “May I come in, Guest of President Washington?” I ask him.

“Of course.”

“Sir, we have prepared a lovely breakfast for you that is waiting downstairs, President Washington has gone out for a while but shall be back soon, I bet,” My eyes open wide and I blush as I see that this guest has no shirt on.

“Of course, what happens to be your name?”

“H-Hercules Mulligan, mister…?”

“Gilbert. Call me Gilbert. Hercules, may you step out of the room for just one minute while I get dressed?”

“Y-Yes, sir. Um, shall I wait outside the door?”

“That would be preferred. But, no formalities, please. My name is Gilbert and that is how you will address me.”

“Okay,” I say, walking out of the room, closing the door behind me.

I hit my head on the wall, “Why am I so stupid?” I whisper.

The door opens to reveal Gilbert dressed in the clothing Ms. Lewis had laid out.

“Would you lead me to the dining room, Herc?”

“Yes, of course.”

I begin to walk through the halls, down the stairs and to the dining room when a clap of lightning sounds followed by a clatter coming from the kitchen. I pull out Gilbert’s chair and wait for him to sit before pushing it in.

“Please, eat up. I need to go investigate that clatter.”

I walk fastly to the kitchen and see five pans on the ground with water spilled all over.

“What the- James, what happened?”

“I-I was washing up when the lightning scared me a-and I dropped all of the pans.”

I hold the bridge of my nose, “Just clean it up. We have a guest here, we need to be vigilant.”

I walk out and stand at the side of the dining room, watching Gilbert slowly take a bit of the egg James had cooked for him. He chews it then looks at me.

“What are you standing there for? Come, come, sit!”

I hesitate before sitting in a chair close to Gilbert.

“So, Hercules, where are you from?"

“Ireland, sir- I mean Gilbert.”

He chuckles, “Nice place, isn’t it?”

“Yeah… Hey, um, what is your full name?

“Oh, well that’ll take me a while.”

“O-Oh I-I’m sorry I didn’t mean to make you upset please don’t do anything to me.”

“No, no, no. I did not mean it in a way of offense, I was just insinuating that my name is quite long. My name is Marie-Joseph Paul Yves Roch Gilbert du Motier de La Fayette, Roi de La Fayette.”

“May I call you Laf, Gilbert?”

“Only if I may call you Herc,” I laugh.

I nod in response, shifting in my seat.

“Oh, I see you have finished your food, would you like me to take the plate?”

“No, no. I will do it. You should not be so formal around me, I am but a simple French Man.”

“No, you are the king of France, are you not? I mean, you had the word “Roi” in your name.”

“Yes, I am, but you do not need to be so formal. You seem to be a nice person, so I want you to address me as a friend. You speak French?”

“Yes, Laf. I do not pronounce the words correctly, but I understand it.”

“Ah."

“Please, do tell me something about yourself,” I say, walking up the stairs as we talk, “Oh, and, please, do follow me.”

“Well, I am in a loveless marriage as my wife has made my life miserable for many years, I am currently thinking of either having her killed or sending her to a dungeon to have her pay for her many sins,” His eyes begin to water.

“We are here,” I say, opening the door to the guest room he is staying in, “I’ve ought to leave. I bet you have some things that need attending to.”

As I am about to leave, Laf grabs my wrist, I turn back to him, surprised.

“Laf?” I ask.

“Can you stay for a little bit?”

“If that would please you, my lord.”

“Thank you.”

We sit down on the bed and begin to converse.

“So, what brings you to America, Laf?”

“Well, Philip Schuyler had some things he wanted to speak about, and G.Wash had been asking to see me for some time now, so I decided to come.”

“How long will you be staying?”

“Around 4 years.”

“Master Washington approved that?”

“Yes, in fact, he wanted me to stay longer. I’m just hoping France doesn’t go into shambles whilst I’m gone.”

“Ah,” I shift, noticing that Laf’s hand is around my waist as I do so.

“Are you going to meet up with anyone else?”

“Yes, actually. In around 3 days I will be meeting up with Alexander Hamilton, a good friend of mine.”

“What will you two be talking about?”

“His up-in-coming marriage. He is to be married December 14th.”

“Ah.”

“Herc?”

“Yes?”

“Does George allow you to leave the penance?”

“Only when accompanied.”

“If you could leave right now, where would you go?”

“Most likely Chick-a Pop bar to see John Laurens. He goes there every Sunday between 9:00 am and 11:00 am to hang out.”

He stands up and bows before me, reaching his hand out.

“Would you like to be accompanied by me to this, uh, Chick-a Pop bar?”

I take his hand and stand up.

“Only if you would like to.”

“Let us go then!”


	4. 4

December 14, 1780: Schuyler Mansion

“Alright, alright! That’s what I’m talking about! Now, everyone, give it up, for the maid of honor, Angelica Schuyler!”

We all clap and cheer and Angelica thanks John and walks up to take his place.

“A toast to the groom!”

“To the bride!”

“From your sister!” Angelica grabs Eliza’s hands and hugs her, “Who’s always by your side!”

“To your union and the hope that you provide!”

“May you always be satisfied!”

Angelica cries tears that we all believe to be happy tears as she hugs Alexander as well, stepping back down to her table.

The priest steps up to the podium and begins to recite the speech we all know.

“Dearly Beloved, we are gathered here today in the presence of these witnesses, to join Alexander Hamilton and Elizabeth Schuyler in matrimony commended to be honorable among all; and therefore is not to be entered into lightly but reverently, passionately, lovingly and solemnly. Into this - these two persons present now come to be joined. If any person can show just cause why they may not be joined together - let them speak now or forever hold their peace.”  
We watch as Angelica begins to stand up but immediately sits back down, Eliza and Alexander don’t seem to notice.

“Now, let’s have our couple read their vows.”

“I, Alexander Hamilton, take you, Elizabeth Schuyler, to be my wife, my partner in life and my one true love. I will cherish our union and love you more each day than I did the day before. I will trust you and respect you, laugh with you and cry with you, loving you faithfully through good times and bad, regardless of the obstacles we may face together. I give you my hand, my heart, and my love, from this day forward for as long as we both shall live.”

“I, Elizabeth Schuyler, take you, Alexander Hamilton, to be my husband, my friend, my faithful partner and my love from this day forward. In the presence our family and friends, I offer you my solemn vow to be your faithful partner in sickness and in health, in good times and in bad, and in joy as well as in sorrow. I promise to love you unconditionally, to support you in your goals, to honor and respect you, to laugh with you and cry with you, and to cherish you for as long as we both shall live.”

“Now for the rings.”

"I, Alexander Hamilton, give you, Elizabeth Schuyler, this ring as an eternal symbol of my love and commitment to you."

"I, Elizabeth Schuyler, give you, Alexander Hamilton, this ring as an eternal symbol of my love and commitment to you."

As the wedding ends, Angelica gets back up to deliver the final speech.

“To the groom, to the bride! From your sister, who’s always by your side! To your union and the hope that you provide! May you always be satisfied. And I know, she’ll be happy as his bride. And I know… He will never be satisfied, I will never be satisfied.”

Hercules grips my hand under the table. I hold his hand as well, thinking that this could never be.

“Monsieur Lafayette!” Alexander says, wobbling over to me, “I need to speak to you about something!”

I nod and walk off with him. Once we’re out of earshot of everyone, he speaks.

“Do you have a thing for Hercules?”

“What do you mean?”

“I saw you holding his hand under that table! This priest we have here also does marriages other priests don’t, you might want to jump on this opportunity whilst you still have it.”

“I have priests back in France that do those things as well. Plus, I still have almost 4 years left here in l’Amerique.”

“So?”

“Hercules doesn’t even know. And, frankly, I don’t think I want him to. Also, aren’t you still with Laurens?”

“Yes, of course, but, Laurens knows why I have married Eliza. I married her for her money and to continue my legacy. Laurens and I do not have to end just because I have gotten married.”

“I think I may have to go back to France early.”

“How do you mean?”

“I received a letter from the head servant in my home saying that Adrienne has been attempting to implement rules so that people living in lower income neighborhoods have to pay higher taxes. Instead of the usual 4% that we are taxing in that lower income societies, she is trying to raise it to 40%.”

“You need to head back there right away!”

“I know, I know. But, if I do, I will have to leave Hercules behind.”

“Not necessarily. Dad has always had a sweet spot for you, he may let you take Herc with you!”

“You think so?”

“Yes. He is right,” George steps out of the darkness he had been lurking in.

“If you would like, I would allow Hercules to go with you to France. I understand your situation. But, you would have to ask his opinion.”

“Oui, of course, sir! Oh, merci!”

I walk back out to the table where Hercules and I had been sitting.

“Hercules, I have a question for you.”

“Yes?”

“Would you like to go with me to France? I have to leave and I am most likely not coming back to America. I have already spoken to Washington. I just wanted your opinion.”

“Yes! I would love to go to France with you!”

“Alright, we leave at dawn. Let’s go pack up our things.”

George, Herc, and I get into the carriage and ride back to George’s home. As we arrive, Herc and I run up to gather our things in the bags George had gotten for us. I come out with a messenger bag full of letters and other writing supplies and Hercules comes out of his quarters with a bag that looks to only have a few dimes in it.

“We need to get to the docks. A boat to France will be departing tomorrow. I have already spoken to the captain and he said he had 5 extra rooms and we could take two of them.”

“Laf?”

“Oui?”

“Could we share a room on the boat?”

“Oui.”


End file.
